


never give up, (get up)

by blujaes



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Birthday Fic for Junhong, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, more tags to come as i write, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:27:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blujaes/pseuds/blujaes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>collection of one shots for junhong's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. met you at a wedding (& it was love at first sight)

**Author's Note:**

> 1 bang yongguk x choi junhong
> 
> the one in which junhong finds mister fan-fucking-tastic at his cousin's wedding. is it a sin to like your cousin's cousin? - it's not like they're really even related.
> 
> (#unbeta'ed - when is my shit ever)

breathe in, breathe out. 

and whatever you do,  do not flip the table.

junhong doesn’t quite understand why he was invited to minho’s - his stupid, i’m-a-jock-and-therefore-perfect cousin’s - wedding. really, there was no reason for him to be there at all. if not for the glittered white invitation he got the other month in the mail, if not for jimin, his  far too nice angel of a housemate, junhong might have used the vip invite as firewood instead - even if they didn’t burn wood for fire anymore. 

but no, just because they lived close together - because minho needed more people at his already too full wedding to prove his popularity - he had to come. or so said his mother.

minho just had to  go bragging about another achievement that he had ticked off his list before junhong.

(by his thirties, minho wasn’t going to have anything left on that stupid list of his to scratch off.)

stupid minho.

so that was how junhong ended up, dressed sleek in black, and unfitting to the white room. 

he’d paid his respects - really, he hated minho, but wasn’t about to be shown off as rude - to the groom and bride, forcefully inching a smile to his lips. and she was pretty - what was her name, yuri? a small, white face, and a gentle, gracious expression. if minho hadn’t already married the girl, junhong might have - 

no, no. stop right there. 

he was not jealous.

pressing his lips together, junhong flagged down one of the drifting waiters carrying the beverages and stole a glass from the clear platter. what he needed right now, was to get drunk enough to try and forget minho and his stupid face. 

(considering this was his wedding, the feat wouldn’t be an easy one to accomplish.)

somewhere through his third or fourth - or had he drank more than that, he couldn’t quite remember counting - glass, junhong was paused by a face he doesn’t quite remember. this wasn’t one of the muscle-head idiot crew minho kept around. oh .

“can i have a glass, or were you planning on drinking minho broke?”

junhong grins. it might be the alcohol, but this stranger’s got a humour code he could definitely ride on. “i think i can spare a glass or two.” he hands the stranger the filled shot in his hand, and grabs another for himself, downing it in a single snap of wrist. “i’m junhong, uh, minho’s cousin.”

the stranger, unlike junhong, is a little more cautious with his drink. he sips at it, grimacing at the taste, and lowers it back down to chest level. was he not going to finish that? “bang yongguk,” then he pauses, nodding once and twice, “and, i’m the same. his cousin, i mean. from his mother’s side.” 

he’s got a nice voice.

“and i’m his dad’s younger brother’s kid.” he giggles. it’s not funny, but he does so anyways. he might be a little tipsy, but that’s certainly not going to stop him from talking to -, “you’re hot.”  oh wait .

yongguk laughs - he’s got a nice smile. it comes off in deep ripples and the sound shooks straight through junhong. he got to be embarrassed, but instead he’s laughing along. 

they laugh for a minute like that, together -  together sounds like a really nice word at the moment, junhong rolls it around his tongue some more. 

it’s really not funny and in any other day, junhong might have exploded from his uncontrolled mouth, but today, today everything feels an extra amazing. maybe he was drunk - or  nah .

“you’re drunk.” he’s not. but yongguk’s already put down his drink and his hands - oh  wow , they’re big - are around junhong’s shoulders to keep him from folding over; and junhong simply isn’t complaining to the touch. “did you come here alone?”

the coherent junhong might have waved off the sturdy hands, and replied yes, but junhong wasn’t exactly himself at the moment. this was drunk junhong; drunk junhong liked games. and apparently yongguk. “are you hitting on me?” the words come off a little strong and a touch flirtatious as junhong swipes his tongue over lips. he especially likes the way yongguk’s face seems to light up a bright red. red is a nice color on yongguk.

immediately, the hands fly off of him, as if junhong’s suddenly gone up a hundred degrees in temperature and burned him. “no; no, no.” yongguk’s shaking his head, desperately as if to clear up the understanding. “i was just wondering - cause, - i mean.” he’s stuttering and junhong finds that extremely cute. he laughs and yongguk stops trying, pressing his lips together. “you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“nope,” he pops the ‘p’, and leans over against yongguk. yongguk feels nice, big and strong - kind of like a giant teddy bear. “fact, i’m - i’m completely serious right now.” he waves a hand. it may or may not have hit yongguk in the face, but at least now, yongguk’s fingers are wrapped around junhong’s wrist, holding it down from causing any more damage. “serious as, as i can serious right now!” and he laughs. and really, it’s not funny.

yongguk is shaking his head, but the small rumbles junhong feels against his ear - the one that’s pressed up against yongguk’s chest - tells him that he’s laughing right now. “you need to get home. here, i’ll take you to minho.” 

oh, but junhong doesn’t want to. 

he straightens up, frowns and stumbles away to the other end of the drink stand, picking up and drowning the glass yongguk left abandoned just a second ago. yongguk drank out of this, so this means they’ve indirectly kissed, right?

 

when junhong wakes up, he’s got a killer headache. he groans, loudly, rolling over onto his back and managing only to fall off the edge of his bed. on the floor, he groans some more.

“you’re awake.” he doesn’t need to lift his head to know his friend is peeking in from the doorway. with his eyes closed, he can practically map out a mental image of his red-haired friend with only just his head stuck in, shifting his falling glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. 

“no, i’m dead.”

jimin laughs and it’s not appreciated. junhong manages to throw something at him, still with his eyes closed.

“you shouldn’t have drunk so much. do you want me to fetch you come painkillers?” 

“please and thank you?”

junhong doesn’t bother move from his spot on the floor - it’s rather quite comfortable, actually - by the time jimin has returned with the colored pills and a glass of water. they help him up and manage just barely to get him to swallow the pills and finish the glass of water - with less vigour than he had the other day with the alcohol. 

“what happened yesterday?”

“how would i know? but with how drunk you were, i would’ve thought you’d gone to a club instead of a wedding.”

when jimin laughs, junhong grunts, glaring. jimin’s humour - or the therefore lack of - is not appreciated. 

and in a minute, jimin wiggles himself out of junhong’s swiping range to retell the tale. “i’m serious, i don’t know. some guy came over with you pretty much all over him. said something about being your cousin’s … cousin?”  jimin shrugs.

his cousin’s cousin .

junhong groans; because while the words might not have a meaning for jimin, junhong surely remembers that. the pretty smile and the chopped military cut. 

standing up, jimin reached over to pat his friend twice on the head, offering a sort of odd condolence. “judging your face, you must’ve fucked something up.” junhong wrinkled his nose. did he? he couldn’t remember. “well, doesn’t matter, you’re probably never going to see the guy again.” 

but what if  wanted to see yongguk again?

junhong sighed. 

maybe it would be better if he didn’t see yongguk ever again.

(it would save him from the embarrassment.)

he sniffs. regardless of whether it would save face or not, it’s still a sad prospect that the last image he left on yongguk was one of him shift-faced.

“oh, my romantic brother, whatever shall we do with you.”

junhong throws a pillow at jimin’s face. 

whatever positive thing he might have said about jimin, he’s taking it all back now.

jimin dances just out of range, bubbling out a laugh. “cheer up, brother. there’s more fish in the sea.” but none quite as charming as yongguk had been the other night, surely. “i’m going to class, crawl back in bed and get some more sleep. you’re actually going to have to be a functioning part of human society by the time i get back. you said that you have to go watch a musical and write a review on it, unless you’re blowing that over too.” 

junhong groans, but jimin’s right. inching himself off the floor, junhong rolls back into bed, managing just barely to slip out of his stuffy, wrinkled suit from the other night. he’s only worn it once, and he’s probably going to have to get it dry-cleaned now. what a waste.

(a few hours later, jimin barges in again and shoos junhong off to the restroom to wash up. on his palm is an eleven digit set of numbers that he doesn’t remember getting.)

(he doesn’t remember it, so it must not be important.)

(he writes down anyways, just in case.)

 

it’s been a week since minho’s wedding and he seems  still to the big gossip in the family.

no, actually, to be more specific, it’s his kids, and not him.

(“i’m telling you, jimin, he fucking ran over a speed bump and took down two people driving through.”)

it’s getting to be quite the headache, getting messages from his mom about how  adorable minho’s kids are. he should be lucky that the twins both took after their mother, instead of their toad-faced father - not that junhong would actually say this to his face.

but putting aside the constant ring of his cell - by this point, he’d muted his family chatroom -, life seems to have fallen back to its normal rhythm. jimin bickered all too much with his boyfriend. (junhong  still had yet to find out whose number it was that had been scribbled onto his palm) and school, school was a distraction to keep him from kicking jimin’s boyfriend out, whenever they began making out on the couch. 

(because, “ excuse me , still in the god damned room. keep it in your fucking pants.”) 

it’s somewhere along the week that junhong is herd over to the cafe by his classmates, who decide it’s better to study in a crowded area with a slight insert of soft background noise. junhong think’s they’re all ridiculous - why waste money on coffee and noise, when you can do the same back at home - but doesn’t really get a choice as he’s dragged, kicking and screaming, down to the cafe just outside of campus. 

the battle was two against one - it simply wasn’t a fair fight.

“hello, welcome to -  oh .”

junhong blinks at the barista’s pause. his brows curl up in question, but otherwise says nothing to acknowledge the recognition - because what if he didn’t pause out of recognition, but just because. “yeah, i’d like the, uh, caramel macchiato, grande.” he digs into his wallet to fetch his card, and by the time he’s gotten it out, the barista still didn’t seem to have caught his bearings. 

it’s flattering, really - because the guy is hot (his military crop is a little out of place, but really, junhong isn’t complaining) - but he really just wants his coffee. “hello?”

“oh,” the guy blinks back to life, shaking his head. “do you not - sorry, one caramel macchiato.” 

junhong nods, hands him his card, and then moves to join his friends in the corner while his drink prepares. 

“what took you?”

“too hot for the cashier,” he jokes.

they laugh, and then get to work, digging noses into texts, and chewing nails when a particular sentences make less sense than the others. 

it’s maybe a minute later, when cute buzz cut comes over with their drinks. they look at each other. they don’t remember this cafe ever having had such good service - last time changhyun had come, they’d forgotten to ring him up for his order completely. 

“and one caramel macchiato.” the guy -  guk , reads his name tag - doesn’t hand over junhong’s though, as he did with jonghyun and changhyun’s. 

junhong raises his hand. maybe he forgot who it was for. “uh, here.”

guk shakes his head. “can i borrow him for a minute?” 

before junhong gets a chance to, changhyun’s already answered, kicking him out of the seat. “he’s all yours.”

“thanks.” 

guk doesn’t catch the less than appropriate hand signs that changhyun flashes, but junhong does. he mouths a profanity at him, before chasing after the barista and his drink. 

“you really don’t remember me, do you?” is the first set of words that come at him when junhong sits down, wrapping his hands around the tall glass of his drink. 

“excuse me?”

the guy makes a face. “you don’t.” he shakes his head, but then turns back to look at junhong, his head tilted almost curiously. “remember, you called me hot, and then threw up all over me when i tried to get you home?”

and oh fuck, junhong remembers.

“oh god, i am so sorry. i was piss drunk out of my mind. i should not have said that,” a pause, “not that you’re  not hot, because you are - but, oh shit, i’m sorry.” he shakes his head, pushing his drink slightly to the side as he buries his burning face in hands. 

brilliant. he was fucking brilliant. 

yongguk laughs. it’s that deep rumble again that junhong remembers adoring a week ago - but right now, he can’t seem to appreciate it as much. “so you’re sorry about calling me hot, but not about throwing up on me?”

junhong shakes his head. “no, no, i’m sorry about that too!” he’s sorry he exists. “oh god, how much did that cost? i’ll pay you back, i swear. i mean, at least the dry cleaning. i can’t buy you a new shirt, but -” he really wants to cry right now. “i really am sorry. god, i should really stop drinking.”

“you should.”

oh god, was it too late to kill himself?

“no - i mean, you should stop drinking so much.” this time, yongguk flushes a little in color as well, flapping his hands a little oddly. it’s cute, but this time, junhong has the sense of mind to not voice his thoughts out loud. “i was worried. i wanted to give you my number, just in case something went wrong, but you wouldn’t give me your phone.”

oh, junhong remembers that as well. he’d screamed rapist at least twice in the duration of that night, just to see yongguk flare a tomato red in the face whenever he’d tried to pat out junhong’s phone. 

“but you didn’t call in the morning. i mean, i guess it’s a good thing that you didn’t call, since that would mean nothing happened - but …” yongguk trails off, his hands circling the air catching up where he drifts off.

“oh, that was you?” well, there was one mystery solved.

yongguk laughs at junhong’s comment. “well, it’s fine i guess. since you, you’re alright.”

junhong nods. he’s alright. maybe embarrassed to death, but other than that, he was quite solid. 

“i, uh, i have my phone now.” junhong pulls it out, a little sheepish smile on his lips.

“you’re not going to scream rapist again, are you?”

“no.” 

he’s red and if he were naked, the blush would have surely followed down to his chest.

yongguk laughs. this time, it sounds much more soothing than it was a minute ago. “i’m just kidding.” he takes the phone from junhong’s hands and punches in his number, saving himself under his name:  bang yongguk . “you’re not going to leave me hanging again, are you?”

“no, of course not!”

“good.” there’s another one, his deep rumbly laugh. junhong finds that he likes it. “well, my friend’s going to throw a fit if i leave him alone at the register any longer. i’ll see you soon, junhong.”

as he stands up, yongguk curls his hand in the shape of a phone, and mouthing out a request:  call me .

oh, he will.

 

yongguk likes the color red. 

he eats ramen all the time, even though he knows it’s not healthy at all for his body.

he also has a twin brother (oh  god ), who yongguk claims is so much far off in life than he’ll ever be. 

he lives in an apartment that he used to share with his twin brother, before he moved into his company’s dorms.

and the reason his hair is so short, is because he’d only just finished his military services.

(junhong finds yongguk-facts so much easier to memorize than bach’s.)

and by the time spring rolls around, yongguk’s stupid buzz cut - it was cute, but it had to go - has grown out and trimmed neatly into a two-block that has junhong approving greatly.

they’ve gone from he-threw-up-all-over-my-good-tux to a healthy friendship. it turns out that yongguk had used to attend the same university as junhong before going on an military leave of absence to complete his mandatory service. but he’s back now, and it gives junhong more excuse to hunt down his newest friend, when bored.

every week, at least once, they sit outside on the campus grass for lunch. it’s probably the only day of the week that yongguk gets proper lunch and it’s odd seeing how yongguk’s muscles seem to have deflated from his days in the military - he supposes that’s what happens if you indulge in more ramen than muscle exercise. 

sometimes, their friends will join them. it’s how junhong was introduced to yongguk’s ecstatic friend, kim himchan, and the popular king-bee, woo jiho. but normally, it’s just the two of them, a thing of cheap convenience store kimbab in hand as they laugh over their equal dislike of their shared cousin, minho.

unfortunately, today, it’s raining outside. it’s too wet to sit outside and they have to call off their lawn date. junhong looks disappointed, and to raise his lowered spirits, yongguk suggests that they eat at the cafeteria instead.

and that’s where they’re at, when jimin joins them. 

yongguk’s met jimin before and to junhong’s embarrassment, his dearest housemate had gone off to tell him all about junhong’s horrible habits - namely his tendency to talk in his sleep and walk around nude after taking a bath.

(junhong put bugs in jimin’s bed that night.)

but as much as he hates to admit it, the two fit right for each other - though, jimin explained that it had only been because they had something in common to talk about, namely junhong.

and that’s exactly what they’re doing, talking about all of junhong’s stupid slip ups, when jimin’s boyfriend saunders over, draping himself completely over the smaller body and cooing. jimin huffs and junhong throws some french fries at the guy’s head.

(junhong watches yongguk’s expression, but doesn’t see it change.)

taehyung joins their conversation - or doesn’t, really, since he’s seemed more interested in stealing jimin’s food and attention. 

yongguk  are jimin & taehyung dating

me yh. is that bad?

yongguk no himchan’s gay too

me oh nd u?

the reply takes too long to come, and junhong slightly panics.

me  sry tht was rlly personal

me  sry. u dn’t hve to answ

me  yongguk?

yongguk no im not

yongguk keke. its fine. :) 

(and junhong wants to cry again.)

 

it’s the end of the year and himchan’s decided to throw an end of the year christmas party. junhong has half a mind not to go - because he doesn’t celebrate christmas, and he really doesn’t want to pop himchan’s bubble when he says that he’s never waited for a fat man to climb down his chimney - when yongguk persuades him. it’ll be fun, he promises. apparently, himchan throws the best of parties. 

and, of course, it’s not a lie. 

himchan must be bill gate’s secret son or something, because junhong didn’t think it was even possible to reserve a club as large as this one.

“yongguk used to dj here!” himchan tells him, screaming over the thumping of the deep bass. “and i helped out at the bar, so they gave us a huge discount!” but junhong isn’t buying it.

the party, as promised, is nice. junhong spots yongguk somewhere near the bar and skips over to him, and yongguk drifts from his previous conversation to amuse junhong. 

“here, try this.” 

junhong eyes the drink that he’s handed over by yongguk and raises a brow. does he really want a repeat of what happened at the wedding? 

yongguk seems to be able to read the look junhong is giving him, because he laughs. “don’t worry, it’s not nearly as strong as the one at minho’s wedding. even you can hold this one down, i’m sure.” 

junhong tries to look offended, but graciously accepts the class, taking the drink in sips. and he agrees - it doesn’t burn nearly as much as the one that night. maybe this time, he can go home simply buzzed, instead of throwing up all over expensive clothes. 

but he doesn’t know how many he’s taken down, before he’s kissing yongguk, arms looped around his older friend’s neck as he leans closer into the heat. yongguk is really, really warm. and his hands are on his waist, giving them a small squeeze as they breathe against each other’s lips. 

he’s not drunk - not really - but he fights the urge to giggle when yongguk thumbs against the dips of his waist. “i thought you weren’t gay.”

“i thought so too.” his voice comes all deep and scratchy. if they weren’t so close, junhong might have missed it in the rumble of the club.

junhong snickers.

yongguk hums. “maybe.” 

but then again, junhong might be as well.

“it’s loud here, you want to go home?” yongguk pauses here, pressing his lips together. “with me, i mean. you want to come to my house?”

“you live alone, right?” junhong sighs, curling his fingers into the short ruffles of hair at back line of yongguk’s neck. “lead the way.”

 

junhong doesn’t quite know when it’s started, but over the days, junhong’s visits to yongguk’s apartment grew more in occasion, until jimin began commenting how he wasn’t sure whether junhong was his roommate, or yongguk’s. 

(to be honest, junhong doesn’t know the answer either, so he smiles sheepishly instead, offering a playdate the next day, just to sooth jimin’s mood.)

but junhong certainly isn’t complaining.

sometimes, yongguk’s in the mood to simply cuddle on the watch and watch a war movie while junhong lays on his lap. on other days, they’re both swamped with class work and simply have to settle to the warmth of the other’s presence as they do their homeworks at yongguk’s kitchen table, feet bumping against each other every so often.

and, more recently, it gets a little more intimate. 

“oh  god ,  shit yongguk .”

junhong’s laying on the bed, his legs falling off the edge and spread open wide as yongguk situates himself between them. there’s tears gathered up at the corners of junhong’s eyes, but either of them have quite the time to pay attention to that. 

and junhong swears he’s just seen heaven.

arching off the bed, junhong lets noise he doesn’t quite recognize in himself. his hands flop awkwardly next to him, lost and unsure what to do. this isn’t the first time yongguk’s blown him, and he’s still at a loss as to what he was supposed to with his hands - perhaps cover his face or shove a fist down his throat for being so loud.

so yongguk helps him.

(really, as someone who’s supposedly not gay, yongguk knows a lot.)

“here,” he croaks, taking junhong’s hands and placing them into his hair, “pull here.”

and he does.

at first, junhong’s careful. he doesn’t want yongguk to end up bald. but at the next harsh suck, lewd and loud, junhong simply doesn’t have the time to think about such things. 

“ oh god, holy fucking - fuck, yongguk .” 

yongguk has commented before that junhong is  very vocal when aroused. junhong turned a bright red, and huffed, but then yongguk kissed him, against his inner thighs just by his dick, and promised that he liked it better when junhong was loud. since then, his volume might have gotten a little bit louder.

(there was that time that yongguk’s neighbor came over to yell, and spat disgusted comments about the  impurity  of homosexual couples, but yongguk slammed the door in his face, and worked junhong off a second time, just to piss him off.)

arching off the bed, junhong whines loudly when yongguk’s hands pinch the inside of his thighs, trailing down to cup his balls, scratching along the sensitive skin. junhong screams, bucking into the warm mouth surrounding him. he could nearly swear he’s died and gone straight up to heaven - or maybe hell, he can’t quite tell. 

just as he’s about to unload, yongguk pulls away, that shit-eating grin on his face. junhong curses.

but he doesn’t leave junhong with blue balls, spitting on his hand and wrapping the slicked palm over junhong’s throbbing erection - and junhong’s back to making those sex noises yongguk loves so much again. 

“are you close?”

junhong nods, frantically, feeling the tears cling onto his lashes. “pleasepleaseplease.  oh god yongguk, please. ”

the warm hand around his dick alternates between squeezing and tugging, slow and fast, as he jerks junhong off. and it’s not long before junhong lets with a drawn moan, arching beautifully off the bed. he spurts white over yongguk’s hand, some managing to land on yongguk’s face in uncontrolled aim. yongguk never complains though, focused more on finishing junhong off and jerking him off through his orgasm. 

and it’s not until junhong’s completely spent, flaccid on the bed, unable to move, that yongguk lets go of his now limp member, chuckling low and reaching over to press a kiss onto junhong’s forehead. if he wasn’t just a pile of limbs, junhong would have scooted to curl himself around yongguk’s body.

“you alright?”

junhong hums. 

“hey, don’t fall asleep on me.” yongguk pinches junhong’s waist, and the boy squeals, peeking an eye open at his, his - junhong’s not sure what they are.

“are you …?”

“hard? yes, you owe me right now.” 

“oh.” 

junhong knows he ought to return the favor - at least jerk him off - but yongguk shushes him, patting down on junhong’s chest. “you’re tired right now. you can blow me later, after a nap.” he hums an okay to the idea.

yongguk nods, and kisses him, this time on the mouth.

(as yongguk gets up to go to the restroom - to at least wash the cum off of his face -, he complains a little on how little stamina junhong has - that junhong should work out so yongguk doesn’t always end up with his left hand.) 

“guk?” to the smaller sound, yongguk turns around, a brow arched. junhong giggles. “you’re hot.”

and this time, he’s sober when he says it.


	2. do you believe in m(e)agic?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 kim himchan x choi junhong
> 
> the one in which junhong is magical and himchan is not. junhong really should have listened when they told him not to use his magic outside of school grounds.

“okay, but i still don't get why youngjae’s got long hair?”

the look daehyun gives him is obnoxious, a cross between irritation and pity. it’s as if he’s pitying junhong’s stupidity; and mind you, junhong is anything but stupid - or at least, he’s heaps smarter than the likes of jung daehyun. junhong scowls right back. 

“i told you, his family’s gone on some magic convention in london and my poor jae baby has nowhere to go.”

he’s knows that much.

youngjae was the infamous second son of the yoo family. beginning their first year in school, he’d been the talk of the time, not a single being passing by without skipping over to get a glance over at  prodigy boy . junhong would have been lying if he hadn’t been one of the crowd - but who could help it? really, it was a wonder youngjae was even acknowledging the likes of them.

junhong wasn’t nearly as famous as his friend. as the kid son of choi junhyuk, a better known wand maker of their century, junhong ought to have been made for more talk than he was; the celebrity level had probably died down when the master wandsman had decided to step down from his career at the passing away of his first wife and firstborn, settling down in a  muggle  environment with a second, magic-less wife and office job. really, it was simply unheard of in the magic community. so when junhong, the son of the unlikely pair came up as magical, the most attention he’d gotten was the childish hoots of “half blood”.

and daehyun, daehyun was even less well off. no one really understood how magic came from a muggle born.

(multiplying two negatives did make a positive though.)

unlikely came together, junhong and daehyun, and somewhere along the way, youngjae had joined them, eager for company that didn’t try to kiss ass. they made for the least likely trio their school had seen for ages.

“and being the most fantastic knight in shining armor, decided to let jae baby stay over at my place for the vacation.”

junhong nearly gags at the sickening coos daehyun makes to their sleeping classmate. if youngjae wasn’t asleep, exhausted and propped up forcefully against daehyun’s shoulder, he would have most certainly magiced daehyun a new face. lucky for daehyun, he’s still clearly knocked asleep.

the two have had an unusual relationship since a few number of months ago, when a couple of their classmates pulled a stupid prank on youngjae and daehyun fell for it, trying to protect him. it’s queer, how they’d act odd in the others’ conscious presence; junhong can nearly swear there’s something going on between them that they simply won’t admit to.

(or maybe they didn’t quite realize it yet either.)

“yeah, i get that,” junhong huffed, crossing his arm over his chest and scrunching up his nose, “but why does he have long hair?”

daehyun scoffed, rolling his eyes. “because,” he drawls, as if it’s all so very obvious and junhong is the only that doesn’t get it, “youngjae owes me.”

“no,” the third voice is grumbled and scratchy as youngjae stirs from his slumber, likely from daehyun’s far too loud voice. his eyes still haven’t opened when daehyun yelps. youngjae’s probably kicked his shin with the back heel of his boot. “it’s because the idiot hasn’t told his brother that he’s bringing over a date,” the way youngjae’s eyes peel open, dark and murderous, says that this too wasn’t a topic premeditated by both sides, “and his brother will absolutely have a fucking heart attack if he sees me and notices i’m not a girl because then the idiot’s brother will think his precious baby brother is gay..” 

junhong gulps. youngjae isn’t known to swear or blurb out long streams of sentences too long, but judging his spike in behavior now, he likely wasn’t too happy. junhong makes a note not to further chase his irritation. 

in the following duration of the ride, daehyun coos at his friend, making poor attempts to win over youngjae (it’s bothering junhong how well youngjae fits into that long hair of his - he’s also colored it blonde, making him look more like a fairy tale princess than the snarky bookworm they often see hunched over a pile of books too much) and sooth his irritable mood. he’s going to have to work harder than stealing his hand and cooing, junhong thinks, because youngjae’s got his back completely turned from daehyun, no longer propped against him, and facing junhong as he banters about nothing in particular.

“do you want to stay over at my place instead?” 

in the background, daehyun makes a face, scowling murderously at junhong. junhong sticks a tongue out in return.

youngjae sighs, but shakes his head. ”no, it’s fine. you said your friend’s coming over for the holidays, didn’t you?” the way youngjae smiles has junhong’s heart flutter.  great houdini , he makes a pretty girl - junhong can see why daehyun had been so set on making their friend into a she. (but there is no way he’s willing to say this outloud - oh no, he doesn’t have a death wish.) “you have fun with him. i’ll use the break to teach jung fucking assshit a lesson.” and as he says this, he kicks daehyun again, shooting back a heated glare as he practically hisses out daehyun’s name. 

(and junhong has the heart to feel the slightest bad for daehyun.)

junhong nods, wishing youngjae good luck as he gathers his bag - it’s a small thing, thank heavens for being able to magic it into a limitless black hole. he’s almost off the train when daehyun runs back to him, calling out his name.

“junhong, wait!” he’s got to get off if he doesn’t want to end up in busan, but junhong stays put for a second longer to let daehyun catch up with him, a shit eating grin on his face. junhong knows better than to trust that face - because that’s the look daehyun and he share when they’re pulling stupid pranks in professor kang’s class - but curiosity grips him to rooted to spot. “you wanted to know the hair changing spell, didn’t you?” 

junhong nods, “yeah?”

“well, i managed to wrangle it out of youngjae yesterday!”

“no way!”

they share a cheer, stopping in the middle of the train, to bounce up and down. 

junhong had been wanting the spell for years - or that might have been a wee bit exaggerated. due to his grade, his status as half-blood and not pure, the professors had refused to tell him the spell, positive that he would screw it up somehow - “spells,” they’d said, “are a tricky thing. if you say even just one word wrong, it can turn against you. magic is a double edged sword.” 

(but youngjae had no problem conducting the spell. junhong was calling bull shit.)

“here.” daehyun passes junhong the slip of paper and slaps him on the back. “by the time i see you next, your hair better be forty something different colors!” 

junhong’s lips open to tell them that doing that is a stupid idea and that he’s not dumb enough to waste magic energy like that, but he’s stopped when the attendant is giving the final warning for anyone getting off. he gives a last look toward daehyun, who’s too busy laughing to really pay attention, and is off, shaking his head. jung daehyun is a fool and junhong hopes that youngjae gets him back for everything.

off the train, out of the platform, junhong’s greeted by his mother, a wide smile welcoming him to open arms. he’s really missed his her - even if the others of the wizarding community shake their head at her for being muggle blood and unable to cast magic. 

(his mother had magic of her own. who else could juggle between cooking, cleaning, and still have enough time to be entertained enough for her baby son’s queer antics?)

“hi baby.” junhong is immediately in his mother’s arms the second he catches sight of the baby pink sweater she’s got on. and as always, she smells something of vanilla and chocolate - he loves it. “how was school?”

he mumbles that it was  great , but how much he’d missed her and being at home. school was wonderful, especially classes with his friends, but it couldn’t compare to his mother’s home cooked dinners and sweetest of hugs when he was feeling sick or down. he’d certainly missed it all.

there’s a thing about the muggle world, however, that junhong doesn’t like. it’s the constrained use of magic.

youngjae’s family, living in a community concentrated on magic-users, has no such worries. he’s used to seeing magic usage around the house, a quick wave of his wand instructing books to their places on the shelf and plates of snacks to come hurdling to him. 

but junhong ought to think of himself lucky. at least his magic wasn’t completely restrained, unlike daehyun.

it would have been so much easier to  magic himself and his mother home, but with the ban on such large usages, junhong is forced to strap in on the passenger seat, hugging his messenger bag close to his chest as his mother takes the wheel. his mouth doesn’t stop running the whole way there, catching the sweetest woman up on his life away from home.

“himchan’s over,” his mother fills in, when junhong runs short of breath and reaches in his bag for a drink. her eyes slightly turn to him as junhong visibly lights up. she smiles. “his parents couldn’t make it this time, but himchan was adamant in coming down to see you.”

junhong cheers.

it’s certainly a pity that mr and mrs kim couldn’t join them that year, but the fact that himchan’s decided to come down to visit makes up for the unfortunate news. it simply wouldn’t have been summer vacation without himchan lounging around in short sleeves and shorts on his bed, flipping through outdated comic books. 

“is he at home?”

his mother nods, light dancing in her eyes at the way her baby boy bounces slight in his seat. 

himchan is junhong’s friend. sure, he’s a couple of years older than him, but junhong’s always considered them the most close of friends. they’d certainly been through enough of tears, smiles, and fights to be considered the best of. had junhong not shown signs of being magical, he would have likely chased life with himchan, attending muggle school and beating his head on the desk trying to figure out  algebra  problems while himchan laughed - it really wasn’t junhong’s fault that his brain decided not to work that way. 

but mid-elementary years, junhong had magically set fire to himchan’s pants during a childish scrabble and things just couldn’t be the same from there on.

they still met up every summer, even after himchan had moved up to seoul for his studies. they were still the best of friends, just one more magical than the other. himchan didn’t mind the slight disadvantage he got, when they played games on lazy afternoons.

the first thing junhong does, getting off the car, was to scramble after  their old oak tree , hollering back at his mother that he would be home in time for dinner. 

the first thing he needs to do, is see himchan.

just like their many years back, himchan is at  their tree, laid back on the grass, arms crossed under his head with his eyes closed. he looks doll-like, almost fragile like so; himchan had always had a sort of elegance to him that junhong can’t copy with his lanky limbs. 

“himchan!” 

himchan doesn’t get a chance to brace himself before junhong has pounced on top of him, grinning down boyishly to the low grunt parting his friend’s lips. it’s been too long since they’ve had seen each other, and junhong simply doesn’t have the patience to wait for grandpa to warm up to his presence. 

but himchan doesn’t complain. a second of lazily blinking the shock away, he grins up at his younger friend. it’s that toothy grin junhong’s always loved. “hey there.”

junhong laughs. it’s himchan. he’s still the same as ever, lax and simply far too sophisticated - or so claimed - to be riled up by junhong’s plays.

climbing off of his friend, junhong sits in the grass by himchan’s side, spreading his legs out wide in front of him. it’s a nice day out. he certainly wouldn’t mind sitting out here to waste the day away. but they don’t have enough time to waste away. come the two week’s end, it’ll be time to return back to school. and then, who knows when he’ll be able to see his friend again.

“how have you been?”

himchan looks at him with a dear look, head tilt a curious direction as he pulls himself up to his ass. he genuinely sounds curious of junhong’s well-being, much unlike the many other times junhong has been asked this as simply a sign of politeness. 

“great,” junhong’s teeth flash as he smiles back. great; school had been amazing. this year had been the one they’d finally begun teaching the more complicated of spells. it was no longer watching the grass grow from the school lawn or magic theory - really, whose brilliant idea was it to make magic  boring ? “in gym class, we played magic dodgeball. except, instead of a ball, it’s spirit balls.” his eyes light up in memory. he wishes himchan could have been there. himchan woud have liked playing magic dodgeball.

his friend hums in interest, waving a hand to do go on with his tale. and so he does. it’s only after an hour of mindless ranting of how daehyun had tried to prank youngjae, but failed before he could even try, that junhong realizes that he’s the only one that’s been talking. he pauses, pressing his lips together to a dissatisfied line. 

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, it’s just - how was your school?”

this time, himchan grunts, shrugging his shoulders and laying back down. that doesn’t look good. junhong frowns, laying down with his friend, only crawling over onto his side instead to peer at the older boy’s side profile. “what’s wrong. is someone bullying you?”

“bullying?” himchan snorts. he shakes his head. “no, of course not.” and then he sighs, twisting slightly to look back at junhong. it lacks the sparkle that junhong loves too much. “it’s just … it’s not even half as interesting as your school.” a chill goes down junhong’s spine. they’ve always told each other everything - perhaps this wasn’t always a good thing; had he unintentionally hurt himchan in the process?

and then he pauses again, turning back to the sky. the sun’s gone down significantly since junhong’s arrival, splashing the sky with shades of purple and orange.

“i’m …” there’s worry that crosses himchan’s eyes again. had they not been the best of friends, junhong might have missed it. “i’m scared you’ll find me boring now that you’re off being … you know, magical.”

junhong breaths out in relief. 

he reaches over to thump his friend in the chest. himchan makes a sound of complaint, but junhong laughs, rolling over to press himself closer into his friend. “you’re really dumb for someone smart, y’know that?” he could never bore of his friend - ever.

himchan snorts, again, as he makes a small smile back. “that doesn't even make any sense, stupid.”

“making sense isn't my job. that’s your department.” but the loose atmosphere is back and junhong is pleased enough with just that.

when it gets too dark to remain outside, they head back to junhong’s house, where his mother insists that himchan stay for dinner - more like the rest of the break. there’s no argument to that and once dinner is finished, all the dirty plates cleared, they lay out the blankets on the floor of junhong’s room, knowing too well that they’d sooner that night be crowded up on junhong’s bed. 

they sprawl across the bed in various positions - junhong is hanging halfway off the bed on his back, lolling his head over the edge while himchan lays on his stomach over him - when junhong’s mother comes into the room at half past midnight. she’s ought to have expected that they boys would refuse to sleep on time but she seems displeased either way, shaking her head with a small smile hidden under shadows. “sleep, you can play tomorrow.” is what she says before the lights are flickered off and the boys are lying in their appropriate places, hands folded over stomach.

“hey, junhong.” 

junhong hums back to the silent whisper across the room. he would turn to face it, but it’s too dark in the room to make out his hands in front of his face. 

“tomorrow, can you show me a spell?”

this time, junhong does turn to face himchan in the dark. he can’t see it, but he doesn’t need sight to know the curious light that’s likely lighting himchan’s eyes right now. junhong grins. this is what he loves about himchan. “we’re not allowed to use magic outside of campus.” he can hear himchan snort and shift in his covers. he can tell that his friend doesn’t buy junhong’s excuse - junhong doesn’t buy it either himself.

“since when do you ever listen to rules?”

he laughs. there’s valid reasoning behind that sentence.

“tomorrow.” junhong promises, stifling a yawn. “i’ll show you how we dye our hair.”

there’s a noise. junhong imagines he’s surprised himchan. “you don’t use hair dye?”

he laughs. “hair dye is for the weak willed.”

from across the hall, they can hear junhong’s mother yelling at them to sleep. and they do once junhong climbs into his bed after himchan, rolling the older friend over to make room.

in the morning, they sit in the living room until junhong’s mother leaves for her work at the florist. junhong kisses his mother goodbye and himchan bows politely. and then it’s just them.

“so what’s this about only the weak using hair dye?” junhong snorts. of course, out of everything he’d said about magic the other day, himchan remembers that one. typical kim himchan - seventy percent water and a hundred percent pride.

as a response, junhong pulls out his bag and magics his wand through the deep space of it, whisking it out like a formidable sword. “behold, the wand.” 

it doesn’t gain the oohs and ahhs that junhong wishes, but an exaggerated roll of eyes. 

he huffs a little, a little injured at the lacking response, but then remembers the paper tucked in his pant pocket handed over by daehyun before exiting the train. he pulls it back, carefully unfolding the creases. himchan leans in the read it, but frowns at the chicken scratch. 

“what’s that supposed to say?”

“it’s magic. i mean, but you probably wouldn’t be able to read it even if daehyun wrote that in korean.” daehyun had the worst of handwriting sometimes. it was a large contrast the himchan’s more careful calligraphy.

himchan hums. he’s likely offended, insulted that he’s likely to never be able to understand the script even if he could read magic. “so you just read that outside and wave your wand?” junhong nods. “that’s so better than hair dye.” there’s a hint of jealousy coloring himchan. he’s always hated sitting in hair salon chairs for anything - even if it was for just his bi-monthly haircut. 

“wanna try it?” 

“try it?”

“yeah, it’s a weak spell, so it should wear off in a few days.” junhong’s eyes light at the thought of himchan in a different color. not saying that his black hair now didn’t look good on him, but after seeing the same dark hair for years, he can’t help but wonder what his friend would look in a different shade. probably just as, if not better. 

himchan takes a moment to think over this, but eventually agrees, grinning widely with a bob of his head. “let’s do it then. i’ve always wanted to try a different color.”

it’s just a slight nerve wrecking standing in front of himchan with his wand drawn out. what if he fucks up? he’s never tried it on a regular human before - it was technically against school rules to do so. he’s got his wand in one hand and daehyun’s notes in the other and for the first time in a long time, he’s feeling a queer pooling at his gut that may or may not be his nervous playing games on him. 

but unlike junhong, himchan doesn’t look nearly quite so nervous. he grins, complete trust in his younger friend.

(and that’s what has junhong sweat just the lot more.)

“are you ready?” when junhong says this, it’s directed more to himself than his friend.

“shoot it at me.”

a deep breath in, and out. 

he aims his wand and recites the words drawn out on paper. 

junhong has ought to have known better than to trust jung daehyun of all people. whether he meant well, or not, daehyun had a horrible tendency to screw up, sometimes intentional and the other times not so.

so when the puff of pink cloud summoned from his magic waves out, junhong is panicking. 

himchan’s hair isn’t pink, as he’d tried to magic it to be.

it’s so much worse.

“oh  fuck .” 

junhong immediately drops his wand as he scrambles toward himchan. or, at least what used to be his friend. it’s daehyun’s fault, sort of, but junhong doesn’t have the time to point blames right now. 

not while he’s friend’s a … 

himchan whines.

he fucking  whines . and it’s a pitched thing, definitely not a part of himchan’s usual vocal range. this is all so weird - and wrong - on so many different levels. junhong is  so  dead.

“fuck, daehyun told me this was a hair spell, i’m sorry.” 

on any other case, junhong might have laughed. it’s quite funny when magic backfires on a friend and goes wrong - not quite so horribly beyond fixture, but just enough to bring about a round of laughs - but he can’t bring himself to enjoy it right now. not while himchan’s a dog. a fucking dog.

there’s a pause between junhong’s actions as he kneels before his once human friend. he’s awkwardly hovering over the mess of fur that’s his friend. it’s weird; it’s definitely weird.

“uh, himchan, can you, are you alright?”

the dog, himchan, barks. there’s something intelligent in the dark beady eyes of the dog and junhong sighs of relief. at least that’s still his friend in there, even if he’s covered head to toe in fur. himchan sniffs, barks again, and then butts his head against junhong’s hand. there’s a part of junhong that wants to believe that this is himchan’s doggy way of reassuring him - but it might as just have been mistaken for the doggy senses of wanting to be pet. 

whatever it is, junhong lets his hand fall heavy on the furry head of his friend, rubbing between the ears as he tries to find his peace. “i swear, i’ll figure out a way to solve this, alright? no need to panic. i got this.” but no one is panicking - only junhong. 

the first thing he does is dig through his textbooks (he’s glad that he had the mind to bring them along with him) for a hopeful fixture. perhaps there had been a class to undo spells that he missed out on. the hopeful outcome of the situation is to fix whatever went wrong with himchan without alerting anyone else. and hopefully before his mother returns home from work. 

that solemn wish is tossed out in seconds as the sun falls over the horizon and himchan is still a dog, laying at junhong’s feet with his doggy head resting on top of his paws. it’s hopeless.

junhong groans.

“junhong?”

himchan perks up, his tail flopping on the floor. there’s a low rumble coming from his chest and junhong can nearly swear he’ll bark. but that’s not what he needs right now.

and for the second time, he panics.

“mom can’t see you!” he hisses, jumping out of his chair and pushing dog himchan to his closet. “she- she’ll call dad! and then dad’ll,” he shivers. he does not need his dad involved in this. “i’ll fix this, alright? so just, shh, alright?” junhong hopes himchan can keep his new found dog senses low enough to sit still. 

closing the closet door, ignoring the heartbreaking whimper from his friend, junhong breaths. 

“honey?” his mother’s head pokes curiously into the room. she glances about the room and then turns her attention back to her son, standing suspiciously guarding the closet. “where’s himchan.”

“he, he went home!” junhong smiles, or at least tries.

if junhong is a horrible liar, his mother is even more gullible. she smiles sweetly, and nods twice, voicing her pity on how it would have been nice if himchan had just stayed with them that break. it would do away with her worries, at the very least.

he breaths, a sigh of relief, once his mother is out of the room. 

when he reopens the closet door, himchan is still sitting there at attention, his tail thumping against the ground and looking almost expectantly at junhong. he’s got that doggy look on his face and junhong finds himself laughing back to it. maybe he’s gone mad. 

he rubs himchan’s head. “good boy.”

never mind the fact that he’s younger than himchan.

the next days is spent trying to find a solution to himchan’s doggificaiton and the third hoping that the spell will wear out. when all else fails, junhong ends up calling his friends down in busan, screeching as silently as possible into his phone when youngjae answers the phone.

“you did what?”

junhong knows youngjae is halfway to beating junhong’s sorry behind all the way to america, but there didn’t seem to be a solution behind this. he could sacrifice his ass if it meant bringing himchan back to the way he was supposed to be.

youngjae makes a noise when junhong, hastily, goes over the events of the past few days. there’s a muffled apology from the other line - likely youngjae apologizing to daehyun’s family for the sudden outburst - and youngjae tells junhong to prepare a connect and wait five minutes. the line disconnects without a goodbye.

“i am  so dead, himchan.”

junhong sighs deeply as he hunts through his magic bag again. himchan watches him do so with a curious tilt, panting slightly with his tongue stuck out. his tail is still wagging and junhong huffs. at least one of them seem to be finding this situation funny.

walking up to the mirror attached to the inside of his closet, junhong draws a symbol in red. then he waits, sitting on the floor of his room with his arms wrapped around his knees. it feels like hours before youngjae’s face explodes in hologram out of the mirror.

“ choi junhong, what the hell were you thinking? ” are the first words out of hologram youngjae’s mouth. 

junhong gulps. 

“nice to see you too, jae.”

himchan yelps. he barks at the hologram and tucks his tail between his legs and growls loudly at it. and then, as if to protect junhong, he jumps in the space between his friend and the strange vision. 

it’s an endearing sight. 

but youngjae doesn’t look nearly as amused. he makes a face.

“that’s not a dog.”

“this  that you’re talking about is my best friend,” junhong huffs, less frightened this time and a hint offended. “and yes he is. he’s a retriever.”

hologram youngjae makes a sound, pressing his lips together. “can you, tell him to go away?” 

youngjae looks uncomfortable. junhong wants to make fun of him - since when was yoo youngjae afraid of anything - but then bites his tongue. he shouldn’t make fun of the only person that can help him. so he pulls himchan away from the hologram, soothing him the best that he can. 

even though he’s not really there, youngjae seems much more at ease when junhong’s got a hold of himchan. he breathes more easily. “alright, so where’s the spell that you used?”

junhong digs it out, holding it out for his friend to read from the other end. 

hologram youngjae squints and makes a noise. “how the hell did you even read that?” 

(the noise himchan makes from the side tells junhong that he agrees with youngjae.)

junhong sighs and rereads it for him. when he does, youngjae gasps and disappears, his hologram fading out when youngjae moves out of range. it takes a second for him to return and this time hologram daehyun is there with him.

apparently, something went wrong.

there’s a lot of arguing, mostly of youngjae yelling at daehyun. “that’s not a coloring spell, you idiot! how can you not tell? do you even pay attention in class?”

(junhong winces with daehyun, because he hasn’t been the best trooper in listening during class either.)

he feels several sizes smaller, when youngjae huffs out of breath and words. “so, how do i fix it?”

youngjae frowns, his arms crossed. “you don’t.”

junhong blinks. “i don’t?”

“nope.”

“then what do i do?”

youngjae sighs, rubbing his fingers into the bridge of his nose. he looks tired - so done with this so-called vacation. “nothing. it’ll wear off.”

“when? how long until himchan’s…” junhong pauses, pressing his lips together. “himchan again?”

“i don’t know. an hour? two? maybe even a month?” youngjae shrugs, offering an apologetic look to junhong’s horrified one. “sorry, there’s nothing i can do. it’s out of my knowledge.” and junhong trusts the frustrated turn growing in youngjae’s stance. youngjae hates admitting that he can’t do something; so it must be true.

junhong sighs. his shoulders slouch but he thanks youngjae for talking with him. better to know that he’s at least tried. 

they end the connection with that. youngjae will likely kill daehyun that night, but even that thought can’t bring junhong to smile. he’s fucked out badly this time. 

as if of condolence, himchan makes a little sound and nudges junhong’s hand. his big eyes tell him that it’s alright, that he forgives him, but junhong isn’t sure he’s quite ready to forgive himself. 

they turn into bed early that night.

the next morning, junhong wakes to his feet cold. it’s weird, definitely odd. he hasn’t woken up with cold feet since coming back down home. since himchan turned into a dog.

he jumps awake, tumbling out of his bed.

junhong checks everywhere - even under the bed. but his friend is nowhere to be seen. where could himchan have gone? could it be that the side effects of the spell? junhong groans. perhaps this was why his professors had always emphasized that spells where not to be used on mortals.

but he doesn’t have the time to grieve now. 

there are tears gathering at his eyes when junhong bursts out of his room in just his boxers and a tshirt. he wants his mother. it’s been far too long since he’s gone crying to her, but right now more than ever, he needs the woman. 

“mom!”

she jumps of surprise when her son bounds into her, burying his face into her shoulder with a choked sob. though she doesn’t know - isn’t supposed to know - why he’s crying, she hums soothingly into his ear, pressing soothing pats into his back. “what’s wrong baby?”

everything. everything is wrong. 

but the words don’t part him and he muffles a sob instead. 

“shh, it’s alright, tell mommy what’s wrong.”

it takes him a minute to calm down enough to tell her the story. by the time he’s finished, his mother has a slight press of lips. he can tell that she’s disappointed, but right now, he doesn’t have the time to worry about it. himchan’s done. himchan.

“i fucked up mom.”

she clicks her tongue. “language, junhong.”

he makes a noise. his friend disappeared and his mother wants to keep his language in check? 

his mother guides him to the couch, and seats him down with her, keeping her hands running up and down his back. it’s supposed to be soothing, but junhong can’t find himself to melt into the touch as he normally does. “it’s my fault.”

“you should have been more careful, honey.”

junhong nods, viciously. he just wants himchan back.

there’s a moment of silence before his mother stands up. junhong’s eyes follow after her.

“i was going to wait a little bit longer before telling you, but,” her lips press again. junhong blinks. what is it that she’s keeping from him? he sniffs. “himchan, can you come out here please?”

it’s a sort of spasm that junhong has as he twists in his seat to find his friend perfectly … well,  alive for one thing. even better, he’s human again.

junhong flings himself into himchan’s arms.

“oh  fuck ,” (his mother clicks her tongue again - “ language, junhong ”) “you’re okay!” 

himchan laughs, petting down junhong’s hair. junhong’s not sure how any of this has happened, but he’s glad, that’s for one thing. himchan’s not dead - or heavens know what could have happened - or a dog anymore. everything feels at place again. safe and the way it’s supposed to be. 

“you’re a horrible liar, sweetie,” his mother coos from behind him, pressing a kiss into junhong’s forehead when he turns. “i hope you learned your lesson.”

junhong nods. he has. 

never look at his mother in the face when he lies.

(and never  ever use spells coming from jung daehyun.)

“but, how did he. youngjae said that,” 

“your father knew something like this would happen one day.” his mother smiles gently, pulling out a zip baggie of pills from her jacket pocket. “he told me to keep this around in case something went wrong.”

leave it to his dad to be over prepared - but for once junhong isn’t complaining of it.

later that night, himchan’s still over at his house. they’re lounging on the bed when himchan sighs. junhong bends his neck an angle to look at him. “what’s wrong?”

he frowns, then shrugs, wrinkling his nose with a cringe. “nothing. i just,  god , i’m sure it’s an aftermath of your spell, but i can hear things really well and your neighbor is just  really bad at singing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot i was still working on this. if this feels like it ended abruptly, that's because it was. they're kicking me out of school in a few minutes and i wanted to finish writing this before they made me go home.
> 
> \+ only a few days left until matrix.

**Author's Note:**

> #i'msorryforthismess #ihaven'twrittensexinforever
> 
> i don't usually write in junhong's point of view, especially not like this. there will be five chapters to this collection, one for each of in-bap pairings revolving around our junhong bb. hopefully, this'll be finished before his birthday again next year. (i promise nothing)
> 
> happy #princejunhongday. hope he got to do more than sit around and practice for their showcase/comeback today. hope youngjae smashed his face into a cake like he did for daehyun. i hope the cake secretly had alcohol so he's drunk stupid now.


End file.
